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Authors: Jo Beverley
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are wed, Lady Claire.”
She did her best to suppress the shudder. Thank the saints and angels that she wasn’t going to have to marry this man. Felice would snap him up. For a wolf, he was good-looking and though cold, he didn’t seem to be vicious.
Claire could even, with the logical part of her mind, accept that her mother and grandmother were right. This situation was not his fault. He was merely the beneficiary of it.
Still, she had meant what she had said. He was unwelcome.
And she meant what she hadn’t said. She wanted him married to her aunt so that she could leave Summerbourne. So she wouldn’t have to see the defilement of the place she loved.
They buried Lord Clarence of Summerbourne that evening, the mourners all cloaked against the never-ending rain. Sir Renald and his men had the tact to stay out of sight.
Claire wept to see her father’s body settled into inches of cold muddy water, but at least she’d persuaded them to bury him in his favorite blue gown beneath the winding sheet.
She turned from the grave and looked up instead at the heavy sky, letting rain mingle with tears. Presumably somewhere beyond the clouds was the golden light of Paradise. She hoped there were books there, and furs, and good music. She hoped the angels liked his wonderful stories, and clever riddles.
Be happy, Father. But watch over us, too.
As the men began to fill the grave, laboring to lift shovels of sodden earth, the family returned to the hall, each going to their own room to mourn.
Claire found her bedchamber strange, for she’d shared it all her life with her aunts. The too-empty room reminded her of how her life had been shattered. Could she have done anything to prevent disaster? Could she have persuaded her father not to go? Though they were close, she didn’t think so. As she’d said to Thomas, once her father made up his mind on something, he was like a rock.
She turned bitter thoughts toward Eudo the Sheriff. He’d been the one to stir her father up about the king’s right to the throne. Working quietly on her illustrations in her father’s study, she’d often heard their talk. She’d heard Eudo going on and on about regicide and duties, debating the matter endlessly on every visit.
the bench by her side, calling Claire over. Lady Agnes sat fixed in her usual place, glaring at the world in general.
De Lisle sank into her father’s chair and she hated him.
“My ladies.” His voice was deep and steady. “We must settle the matter of this marriage without delay.”
Claire made herself look him in the eye. “None of us wish to marry you, Sir Renald.” When her mother reached to control her, she twitched free and stood.
“And what do wishes have to do with it, Lady Claire?”
“We need time. None of us can be a merry bride on my father’s burial day.”
His brows rose. “But I can expect a merry bride one day? I confess, it’s more than I’d hoped for.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. She must remember that he was no fool. “If you give us time, my lord. Perhaps a month—”
“But the king commands that the ceremony be immediate, Lady Claire.”
Chapter 5
“Immediate!”
The lady went pale, and Brother Nils was not surprised. Was Lord Renald truly intending to drag the poor woman to altar and bed within hours of her father’s burial? There was no need for such haste.
“Brother Nils, the documents.”
The crisp words snapped Nils out of his worry, and swung the Lady Claire’s attention to him. Though not as beautiful as her aunts, she was a woman he could imagine marrying. If he wasn’t in Holy Orders, of course. Nils opened his pouch and pulled out the scrolls.
“Do you read, demoiselle?” Lord Renald asked.
Lady Claire turned back to face him. She had courage, Nils was pleased to see, and without her aunt’s foolish pride. “Yes.”
“English or Latin?”
“Both.”
Lord Renald raised his brows in that way he had. “Nils, give the documents to Lady Claire. She
She did her best to suppress the shudder. Thank the saints and angels that she wasn’t going to have to marry this man. Felice would snap him up. For a wolf, he was good-looking and though cold, he didn’t seem to be vicious.
Claire could even, with the logical part of her mind, accept that her mother and grandmother were right. This situation was not his fault. He was merely the beneficiary of it.
Still, she had meant what she had said. He was unwelcome.
And she meant what she hadn’t said. She wanted him married to her aunt so that she could leave Summerbourne. So she wouldn’t have to see the defilement of the place she loved.
They buried Lord Clarence of Summerbourne that evening, the mourners all cloaked against the never-ending rain. Sir Renald and his men had the tact to stay out of sight.
Claire wept to see her father’s body settled into inches of cold muddy water, but at least she’d persuaded them to bury him in his favorite blue gown beneath the winding sheet.
She turned from the grave and looked up instead at the heavy sky, letting rain mingle with tears. Presumably somewhere beyond the clouds was the golden light of Paradise. She hoped there were books there, and furs, and good music. She hoped the angels liked his wonderful stories, and clever riddles.
Be happy, Father. But watch over us, too.
As the men began to fill the grave, laboring to lift shovels of sodden earth, the family returned to the hall, each going to their own room to mourn.
Claire found her bedchamber strange, for she’d shared it all her life with her aunts. The too-empty room reminded her of how her life had been shattered. Could she have done anything to prevent disaster? Could she have persuaded her father not to go? Though they were close, she didn’t think so. As she’d said to Thomas, once her father made up his mind on something, he was like a rock.
She turned bitter thoughts toward Eudo the Sheriff. He’d been the one to stir her father up about the king’s right to the throne. Working quietly on her illustrations in her father’s study, she’d often heard their talk. She’d heard Eudo going on and on about regicide and duties, debating the matter endlessly on every visit.
the bench by her side, calling Claire over. Lady Agnes sat fixed in her usual place, glaring at the world in general.
De Lisle sank into her father’s chair and she hated him.
“My ladies.” His voice was deep and steady. “We must settle the matter of this marriage without delay.”
Claire made herself look him in the eye. “None of us wish to marry you, Sir Renald.” When her mother reached to control her, she twitched free and stood.
“And what do wishes have to do with it, Lady Claire?”
“We need time. None of us can be a merry bride on my father’s burial day.”
His brows rose. “But I can expect a merry bride one day? I confess, it’s more than I’d hoped for.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. She must remember that he was no fool. “If you give us time, my lord. Perhaps a month—”
“But the king commands that the ceremony be immediate, Lady Claire.”
Chapter 5
“Immediate!”
The lady went pale, and Brother Nils was not surprised. Was Lord Renald truly intending to drag the poor woman to altar and bed within hours of her father’s burial? There was no need for such haste.
“Brother Nils, the documents.”
The crisp words snapped Nils out of his worry, and swung the Lady Claire’s attention to him. Though not as beautiful as her aunts, she was a woman he could imagine marrying. If he wasn’t in Holy Orders, of course. Nils opened his pouch and pulled out the scrolls.
“Do you read, demoiselle?” Lord Renald asked.
Lady Claire turned back to face him. She had courage, Nils was pleased to see, and without her aunt’s foolish pride. “Yes.”
“English or Latin?”
“Both.”
Lord Renald raised his brows in that way he had. “Nils, give the documents to Lady Claire. She
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